Warning: this is a bit sad. Don’t let the Spongebob image fool you.
I have hit rock bottom. I have probably said that before, as I have certainly felt that way. But this time, I promise you, I have literally hit rock bottom, and the blows have been excruciating.
If you follow my blog you know that “tumultuous” has become a word I frequently use to describe my life because it is the most accurate and the least obscene. In general, I have to battle my 12 physical illnesses and 3 mental illnesses, all without medical care save for the Emergency Room when I am possibly in danger. I have no family aside from my sister who lives far away and my grandmother who is 92, also far away and suffers from Alzheimer’s. I work a part time job that pays the bare minimum which is not even a third of what I need in order to live, and all my savings are gone, so I have nothing left to my name. However I cannot work more because I am disabled, yet have another year or two to wait for disability assistance. A few weeks ago, only three days after I had been in the Emergency Room yet again, my boyfriend and I broke up; but we are still living together, because I have nowhere left to go. Sometimes I am convinced my life is so dramatic because I’m living a Truman Show like circumstance as that would make more sense than any other reason I can think of as to why my life has beaten the hell out of me for 26 years straight.
I am exhausted. I am sick and in desperate need of rest which I cannot get. I am a disabled person who has to act like they’re not, who is often told that they’re not by others. I have very little help, and I am utterly lost. I am terrified. I feel as if I have nothing at all, which is not only disheartening in general, but especially dreadful because I swear I did everything I could to avoid every single thing that has happened to me. I worked so hard to battle my illnesses and not be disabled, only to become more sick. I put my entire heart into my relationship, but that wasn’t enough. I worked three jobs while going to school before I moved to Missouri only to collapse in the hallway of my old house from sheer exhaustion, and now all that money is gone mostly due to medical bills and the fact that I can’t find other decent work.
Most of my life I have been told that I was worthless, a nothing, useless, and altogether a waste of flesh. Nowadays, though I have left behind most of those abusers, I am still told that I must be doing something wrong. That though I feel like I am killing myself trying to just stay alive, that I’m not doing enough. I’m still told that despite the fact that I so rarely ask for help and never expect anything from others, I still ask for too much help. I just never seem to be enough. While I try to not pity myself, I do believe that there is only so much a person is in control of. I don’t believe it is my fault that I am chronically ill, especially when I do everything I can do be proactive about it. I feel most of the other issues surrounding me stem from the fact that I am not nor have ever been average in regards to my health. I’ve been sick since I popped into existence, and it has only gotten worse from there. Sometimes I can’t help but feel I was doomed to fail, and I swear, if one more person tells me that I am in control of how sick I am or how I’m not trying hard enough, I will fucking explode. I really think I will, and there will be sprinkles and confetti all over the place.
This is not my usual sort of post; I really just need to express my distress since my emotions, my depression and my anxiety and eating me alive. There aren’t many people in my life that listen. And the ones that do don’t have much to say back. Those I speak to are left awkwardly speechless and puzzled because they have no idea what to do with me anymore. But you know, at this point, neither do I.
I am heartbroken not just because of my relationship, but because of my life altogether. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of the dark place I’m in. I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel. I don’t even know how I’ll find another place to live. I feel I have nothing at all. So now what?
Normally I post my pieces to Facebook, but I feel like this post is far too personal, and at worst, I’ll just become even more upset that none of my friends cared to read it. Good grief; I think I’m crumbling.
I promise my next post will be better. I honestly haven’t felt the urge to write, which is troublesome since I generally always want to write. The fact that I’m overcome with hopelessness is probably to blame I assume. I’m not really sure how to end this as I don’t often write posts that are just word vomit. I’m trying to become a professional writer for fuck’s sake. Though I suppose even those who are professional anythings should be allowed to be broken sometimes. People always tell me I’m so strong and can get through anything. Right now I feel the absolute opposite. I hope I’m strong enough to get through this. I suppose we’re going to find out, whether I like it or not.
If you did read this, thank you. I sincerely appreciate you and your eyeballs.
I was a lostboy that was found drowning underwater,
Smothered by the pressure.
I was a lost toy now I’m found, you patched me back together,
Sewing up the leather on my arms.
It was you and only me, it was so hard to see you shivering,
To see you frosting up.
Oh, we locked our arms and shard the warmth together, it was so dark,
But you just shrugged it off,
You turned to me and said, “thank god we’re going home.”
And we fell asleep, cus there’s nowhere else to go,
And I couldn’t keep what’s inside, I had to let you know.